Michele E. Gwynn's Blog

A Grave Discovery by SECTION 5

A gurgling sound startled them both. Otis jumped, clutching at his chest, and Niall stopped speaking, his face going pale. Both looked down. The body in the coffin shook, spasming in a coughing fit."Jesus Christ!" Otis's eyes widened. His heart lurched, pounding hard."Dear God, she's alive?" Alchurch stuttered. His hand dropped to his side; his call forgotten.Read SECTION 5 from Michele E. Gwynn now! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B6WLXZ8L

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5h

Just another day in the life of a Green Beret

Rescuing Emma by Michele E. Gwynn

“Ghost, get down that ladder!” Nate shouted. As soon as Ghost began his descent, Nate slipped through the window, clutching Penelope to him. “Don’t be afraid, Penelope. I’ve got you. Your mom and dad are waiting for you. I promise you’re going to see them.” His heart pounded, and he prayed he would be able to keep that promise.

Gunfire filled their ears.

“Two men are coming out the front, Six. They’re heading your way.” Eastwood relayed the play by play.

Continue reading Rescuing Emma, Book 1 in the Green Beret series from Michele E. Gwynn now!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRJXNFRX

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Do Broken Soldiers Get a Second Chance?

“Where are we?”

Eastwood grunted. “The million-dollar question. Camp Lazarus, also known as fucking Area 51 in Nevada.”

One black eyebrow shot up. “Shut the fuck up!”

“No lie, man. I met our new C.O. on the way in. Major Maxwell. She didn’t look or sound like she was kidding.”

https://micheleegwynn.substack.com/p/saturday-book-tease-770

Read the first chapter on my Substack now!

The Secrets Penguins Keep

I wonder what they're saying to each other. Like, what kind of conversations do penguins have?

I imagine they have to do with fish. Who wants fish...who has fish... Probably they talk about mates, too, and where to find the best pebbles to give to their mates. Is the main pebble peddler called Jared? Jared the Penguin, certified pebble peddler. And when a female penguin gets a shiny new pebble from her beau, does she tell all the single chicks that her guy went to Jared's? Do the other female penguins get jealous?

Oh, and I bet the weather is a BIG topic!

It's cold. It's really cold. It's really, really, really cold! Anyone know how cold it's going to be tomorrow? Might have to bring the colony in a bit tighter for the big cold front coming in...

Yeah, I figure those conversations go something like that. Pretty much like us.

#musings #humor #penguins #micheleegwynn #author #indieauthor #blog #fun #books #reading

Hindsight's 20/20

One of the benefits of getting older is looking back on stuff we did when we were younger. Fortunately for me, my younger years happened before cell phone videos and social media. No record of my shenanigans. Whew!

But I don't mind sharing the good stories. Like the time I went to my first concert.

It was 1989. I was 20 years old. I had the long, permed hair then and a slimness I failed to truly appreciate because all my friends were slimmer (why do we do that to ourselves?). I mean, a size 7 or even a 9 is nothing to sneeze at. I miss my smaller booty. But I digress...

It was my first concert and probably wouldn't have been my first choice as the music was more my friend's taste than mine. I wasn't really ever into heavy metal, but Metallica did have a couple of songs I liked. It was their 'And Justic for All' tour, and since the seats we got at the last possible moment were actually pretty good, I was excited.

We were one level up to the right of the stage (if facing the stage). I was surrounded by stoners who were puffing away. The music was loud. I mean, it was LOUD! Kirk Hammett shredded the guitar on our side of the stage and the headbanging commenced. I remember almost flipping myself into the next row at one point and the guy (some random stoner dude) grabbed me and pulled me back, and we laughed about it.

But it was what happened before we got into the arena that was funny. My friend was a pro where concerts were concerned. She'd been to many and met a lot of musicians. Me? I was a newbie, fresh meat, embarrassingly naive, and as far from a metal chick as you can imagine.

As we approached the arena from my car, there was a fenced-off area and a crowd had begun to gather. We looked to see what was going on, and there, standing on the other side of the fence, was Lars Ulrich (the drummer). He was signing autographs.

My friend said, "Whatever you do, don't you dare say this is your first concert."

Me: Nodding my head and approaching quickly. I pulled out a paper from my purse and we got right up to the fence.

I stuck my hand through the chain-link and Lars, (really nice guy, btw), signed my hand. Immediately, I blurted..."This is my first concert!"

I could feel my friend doing the face-palm next to me.

Lars: (chuckling) "Oh yeah? You're really diving into the deep end, aren't you?"

Me: "Yeah, I guess so." (smiling like a loon) "Can you sign this, too, please?"

I handed him the paper and he did.

Lars: "Enjoy the concert."

I did. I did enjoy it. And my ears rang for a week solid after. Hearing loss, anyone? Eh?

I later gave the signed paper to a dear friend of mine who was a true heavy metal and Metallica fan. He was so excited. Sadly, that friend has passed from Vasculitis, but up until the end he told everyone that story (I shared it with him) and he would show the autograph to them until he lost it in the flood of '98. My own autograph lasted until I showered for work the next day. Boy, I was a hurt puppy. Ears ringing, hardly any sleep, a measurable amount of THC in my bloodstream, I'm sure. But I was young and could bounce back from all-nighters then.

I'd need a week to recuperate now from that kind of misadventure. Maybe two weeks. But it makes for a good story, and I think I gave Lars Ulrich a good laugh that night. Good times had by all.

#metallica #musings #micheleegwynn #music #youth #shenanigans #concerts #larsulrich #humor #dangmybuttisgettingold

Michele E. Gwynn's One-Stop Christmas Shopping Guide!

Begin your holiday shopping here!

Need some great ideas for gifts? Look no further than an author who also paints!

Find wall art (framed, stretched canvas, wood, metal) prints, fleece blankets, throw pillows, ornaments, puzzles, mugs, bath and beach towels, and more, all created from my paintings by the amazing team at Fine Art America.

FAA: https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/michele-gwynn

I'll even make it easier! Find exactly what you're looking for without having to search for it.

Wall Art by Michele E. Gwynn: Michele E Gwynn Art - Fine Art America

Throw Pillows: Michele E Gwynn Throw Pillows - Fine Art America

Fleece Blankets: Michele E Gwynn Fleece Blankets - Fine Art America

Shower Curtains: Michele E Gwynn Shower Curtains - Fine Art America

Bath and Beach Towels: Michele E Gwynn Bath Towels - Fine Art America

Hand Towels: Michele E Gwynn Hand Towels - Fine Art America

Coffee Mugs: Michele E Gwynn Coffee Mugs - Fine Art America

Jigsaw Puzzles: Michele E Gwynn Jigsaw Puzzles - Fine Art America

Ornaments:

iPhone Cases: Michele E Gwynn iPhone Cases - Fine Art America

Galaxy Cases: Michele E Gwynn Galaxy Cases - Fine Art America

Portable Battery Chargers: Michele E Gwynn Portable Battery Charger (5200 mAh) - Fine Art America

Greeting Cards: Michele E Gwynn Greeting Cards - Fine Art America

Stickers: Michele E Gwynn Stickers - Fine Art America

Tote Bags: Michele E Gwynn Tote Bags - Fine Art America

Weekender Tote Bags: Michele E Gwynn Weekender Tote Bags - Fine Art America

Face Masks: Michele E Gwynn Face Masks - Fine Art America

Tapestries: Michele E Gwynn Tapestries - Fine Art America

Looking for books? Romantic Suspense? Check! Crime? Check! Science Fiction Chillers? Check! Children's Illustrated Books? Check, check, and check!

Books on Amazon: Amazon.com: Michele E. Gwynn: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

Books on Barnes and Noble: "Michele E. Gwynn" | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)

Books on iBooks: Michele E. Gwynn on Apple Books

Books on Kobo: "michele e. gwynn" | eBook and audiobook search results | Rakuten Kobo

Books for little readers: Amazon.com: M. E. Gwynn: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

This is a one-stop shopping experience, right here! Come browse around. No need to dress up. Pajamas acceptable. Bare feet? It's all good!

Find a special gift for every one of your loved ones without leaving the comfort of your living room. You're welcome, and Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and may your season be bright and filled with the love of friends and family.

~ Michele

FREE audiobooks on my YouTube Channel

Hi Readers!

It's me, Michele, the author who loves too many genres of books to stay in one lane. Pretty sure you all don't mind, though. I wanted to give you a heads-up to head over to my YouTube Channel where you can begin to enjoy the first full-length audiobooks in both The Harvest Trilogy (Harvest) and the Angelic Hosts series, Camael's Gift...FREE.

I'll be posting the entire Harvest Trilogy (books 2 and 3) soon, and also book 2 in the angel series (and getting books 3 & 4 narrated to publish out there). There are NO STRINGS ATTACHED. But I do ask two small boons for offering these free audiobooks; One, please SUBSCRIBE to my YouTube channel, and, Two, tell your audiobook-loving friends so they, too, can subscribe and be kept informed when the next audiobook comes out. I'll be doing several more as I go along, some stand alones in my military romance series and a few other projects in the works.

What a great way to enjoy books you love! You can listen to them while you drive, on your lunch break, or even on your Roku TV when you pull up YouTube. Sound good?

Here are the links.

Harvest (Contemporary Sci-Fi Mystery): https://youtu.be/XaCDpD4XtCo

Camael's Gift (Romantic Fantasy: Sweet): https://youtu.be/OU6OqrgIQIM

#fulllengthaudiobooks #audiobooks #sciencefiction #fantasy #romance #scifi #angels #UFO #alienabduction #mystery #demons #bookaddict #booklover #booknerd #YouTube #audiobooksonyoutube #micheleegwynnbooks

What's New?

It has been a while since I last updated you all, but I have a few new projects and some interesting new products.

Let's start with the products. ;)

First, I've just released a new children's illustrated fiction, The Humble Bumble Bee. This 38-page picture book is filled with engaging, colorful illustrations to help tell the tale of the humble bumble bee, our little bee friend. It is both sweet and educational, and available in paperback through Amazon. Ages 3-8. Dimensions: 8 x 8, paperback.

The Humble Bumble Bee $8.99

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B095F2RC9R

Have you met the humble bumble bee?

The bumble bee is our friend, and his never ending work helps us in so many ways. The Humble Bumble Bee tells the tale of how important our bee buddies are and what we can do to help them.

The next two projects, while also books, are designed by me but will be written by you. Why? They're journals. I've dipped a toe into creating two gorgeous journals for everyone who enjoys the writing process for whatever reason.

Rainy Day Random Thoughts Journal is a 6 x 9 matte cover paperback filled with images of rainy days to inspire mood and empty pages just waiting for you to record your ideas, organize your thoughts, and weave your words into prose and poetry.

Available on Amazon: $16.99

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B095GCZRW9

Into every life, a little rain must fall. Why not write while it does? There is no denying rainy days are a time of relaxation and reflection. And what better place to ponder deep thoughts while the raindrops fall than a rainy day journal. Order yours today, then curl up in your favorite chair with a warm blanket and your journal and pen in hand. Put thoughts to words in this lovely 6 x 9 matte paperback journal filled with pictures to inspire the perfect cozy mood.

The last new product is Dear Diary, My "Because some thoughts are plain AWKWARD" Journal. This one was created in fun, for those crazy, funny, awkward moments that you absolutely must write down. The inspiration came from my romantic comedy, ,Hiring John. In fact, the covers are similar for just that reason. Poor Britain St. James needed this diary because no one would believe what happened to her in Vegas. Except Kathy. She witnessed some of it. And J.D. Yes, J.D. definitely saw an unleashed side of Brit! This journal is for all your "unleashed" moments.

Dear Diary comes available June 1st in hardcover from Ingram. Keep an eye on my website for links. It will be available wherever books are sold.

And now for writing updates.

I have SOOOOO much coming out beginning this fall. The third book in The Soldiers of PATCH-COM, Second Breath Soldier, followed by the FOURTH book in the series, Silent Night Soldier. In addition, there will be a surprise prequel to the Green Beret series being published courtesy Aces Press. More on that one later but keep your eyes peeled because it's going to be quite the gift for you. It's possible it might also be introducing what will be a new spinoff military romance series. Maybe. Just sayin'... Sssh! It's a secret!

I am also embarking on a new genre under a pen name, a four-book series in the science fiction romance genre. I am loving this and I hope you will too. Creating an entire world is a huge undertaking but I'm such a sci-fi nerd that I ran into it headlong, ridiculous grin on my face, squealing like a little girl. Book one is written and in edits. Book two has begun. It's exciting to be writing something so different than what I'm used to. Die-hard fans will find my new pen name familiar.

As soon as the first book in the sci-fi series launches, I will post announcements and links. Just know I've been a busy bee and I am committed to bringing you new, engaging, action-packed romantic stories.

I hope this post finds you healthy, hopefully vaccinated already, and thriving. It feels good knowing we're finally on a good path toward normalcy again. I've missed seeing my readers in person and hope to begin in-person books signings and other events soon.

Until then, wishing you all the best.

Michele

What Happens in Vegas...can be downright Awkward!

Read the first chapter of Hiring John here!

The Reviews Are In!

"A book that delivers...It is a modern day adult farce once a popular genre with mistaken identities, compromising situations and in more stricter times literally caught with your trousers down...Pure Vegas but delightfully witty and summing up why this is such a pleasurable read." ~ Richard/Goodreads

"Entertaining, screwball shenanigans in Sin City." ~ Linda/Goodreads

"Many LOL moments. Fabulous book, highly recommended." ~ Geraldine/Goodreads

When you're looking for a 'snort milk through your nose' romantic comedy, look no further.

Chapter One
Promotion, Commotion, and Cougar Status Denied!



“Congratulations, Brit! No one deserves this more than you.” Kathy Chapman toasted her friend, and now supervisor, Britain St. James. She held up her enormous, fruit-ringed cocktail encouraging the other two women at their table to do the same. Emma Cole tossed her blonde locks over her shoulder and hefted her bottled beer clinking the glass with Kathy’s. Brit pasted a smile on her face and belatedly hoisted her glass of Chardonnay to theirs.

“Thanks, girls.” She looked at her two friends. Kathy bounced in her chair in time with the music blaring from the stage of the pub they were currently visiting. It was a nice pub, to be sure. It was frequented by the working stiffs from the surrounding banks and corporations, so suits were a normal sight within the establishment known as The Foxy Hound. It was corny as pub names go, but popular. Sitting within the heart of London, it tried for that bygone era feel with modern fixtures including the stage where some alternative trio was banging out dance tunes on their guitars.

Brit watched as Kathy sipped her ridiculously large beverage while chair dancing. Her long, black hair was wound up into a chic twist that accentuated her gorgeous face with perfect cheekbones. At thirty-two, she was still young, lively, and lovely with a sickeningly perfect figure, one she achieved by visiting the gymnasium every morning before work. Brit could barely haul her ass into the shower each day.

Kathy dated, a lot! Tales of her endless train of men showing up on her doorstep with flowers in one hand, and condoms in the other never ceased to entertain. Brit wondered if half the shite she shoveled was real, but even at half, it was one-hundred times more action than her own love life offered, which was zilch, zero, and not at all.

Across the small, round table sat Emma Cole. Emma used to work in accounting, but she would be taking Brit’s old position as loans consultant now that she’d been promoted to department manager. She was blonde, curvy, and happily married to the love of her life for two years and counting. They’d spent many a luncheon chatting about Sam’s insatiable appetite for sex. Funny, as much as she seemed to complain, Brit could tell Emma didn’t mind at all. She was usually blushing while relaying how Sam had snuck up on her in the shower before work or caused cramps in her legs bending her over the kitchen table with the window wide open so anyone passing by could see. Sam was obviously a bit of a freak, but he loved Emma with all his heart. No one seeing them together would disagree.

“Why are you being so glum, Brit?” Emma noticed Brit’s unusual silence.

“Yes, you should be bouncing off the fucking walls with joy.” Kathy nudged her shoulder.

“You’re getting loads more money, a better office, and more company stock. So what’s with the sourpuss?”

“It’s nothing. Really, I’m having a wonderful time.” Brit sat up straighter, not wanting to be a damper on everyone’s good time. She threw her arm around Kathy, and saluted Emma “You birds are the best, you are.”

Kathy smacked her hand down on the table. “Well, there’s the problem then.” She looked at Emma. “She’s surrounded by chicks when she should be wallowing in cocks.”
Emma spit her beer out, laughing. “Kathy!”

“What!” Kathy was unapologetic. “You have your cock on the daily. I’m drowning in cock, but when’s the last time we heard you mention cock, Brit?” She looked at Brit.
Blushing, Brit opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off.

“Exactly. You can’t even remember, can you? Just look at you.” Kathy cupped Brit’s chin. “Mouth hanging open like a hungry baby bird. What you need is a juicy worm, a hot hunk to fill your cheeks to the brim until you look like a cock-hungry chipmunk.”
Emma snorted.

“Good Lord, Kathy!” Brit finally found her voice. “It’s a good thing we’re not on the clock.”

“I’m not the least bit repentant. You need to get laid, Brit. Powerful women such as yourself should have a booty call on call twenty-four seven. I mean, what’s the point of being a department head for a large bank if you can’t fucking fuck whenever you want?” Kathy blurted out; her cocktail almost gone.

Indeed, Brit thought. But out loud, “Well, I don’t know about all of that, but I suppose there’s a bit of truth to what you’re saying.”

“You’re bloody right, there is.” Kathy held up her now empty glass waving it at the cute bartender. His name was Tom, and Kathy had been flirting with him for free drinks ever since he began working at The Foxy Hound two months prior.

Tom grinned, and before long, walked over with another obnoxiously large, frothy drink for Kathy. He was quite handsome in that twenty-something, devil-may-care way with dark brown waves, and large, chocolate-brown eyes. He kept a bit of manicured stubble on his cheeks, which did nothing to hide his dimples.

“Your drink, madam, on the house.” He winked at Kathy who giggled.

He turned to leave, but Kathy grabbed his arm pulling him to her side. She threw him a conspiratorial look. “Tom, our Brit has just made department head.”
Tom turned to look at Brit. “Congratulations, ma’am.”

Brit’s auburn eyebrow rose a hair. Did that cheeky bastard just call me ‘ma’am’? “Thank you,” she said out loud.

Kathy was up to something. Brit could see it written all over her face. “She’s celebrating,” she said. “We’re all celebrating. She’s a powerful cougar now.” She let out an awkward, purring sound. Brit grimaced.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Emma chuckled. She knew Kathy was trying to engineer a situation, and it was painful to watch. It was even more painful because Brit was the unsuspecting recipient of Kathy’s plan.

Tom eyed Kathy. “Well, now, I do like cougars.” He said this while staring at Kathy, but Kathy was still looking at Brit, oblivious.

“She’s a lovely cougar too. Won’t bite much, not unless you ask.” She winked at Brit, and then turned to look at Tom who appeared suddenly confused.

“What? Oh, you mean…,” he looked at Brit. “Sorry, I need to get back to the bar.” He beat a swift retreat away from Kathy and her machinations.

“What a twat!” She bit her lip and glanced at Emma who shrugged. Then she looked at Brit. “I’m so sorry.”

Brit sighed. “No need to apologize. Just let it go, Kathy. I should be heading home anyway.” Brit got off her stool, straightening her dove-gray suit skirt. “Henry will be waiting for me.” She picked up her clutch.

“Well that’s positively fucking sad.” Kathy pouted.

Emma stood up too, cell phone in hand. “At least Henry loves her. And speaking of love, my Sam is texting so I should head out as well.”

“You’re both party poops.” Kathy sucked on the straw of her drink. “Well, go on then, see if I care.”

“Will you be alright?” Brit looked at her, concern on her face.

“Of course.” Kathy waved them both out. “Go, I’m fine. Maybe tonight will be the night for dear Tommy. God knows I won’t be able to talk to him again after that insult to you, Brit, so I may as well fuck him and be done with it.”

Brit pursed her lips, trying not to point out the inconsistencies of her statement. Emma caught her eye and shook her head, a gesture that said “Never mind her. She’s mad as a Hatter and twice as horny.”

***

Henry waited, patient as always, but he still seemed miffed.

“I’m sorry, dearest, but Mummy was given a promotion today, and a little celebration was in order.” Brit picked up the gray cat with white paws, and what appeared to be a spiffy white cravat circling his neck. He had aristocratic markings. The cat blinked his large, green eyes, and swished his tail with enough force to thump his human hard. He was not appeased.

“I know, but the girls need my attention too.” She scratched him between his ears as she walked them both straight into the kitchen where Brit retrieved a container of cat treats. Henry turned on his motor, purring in anticipation. He watched as his human pulled out a small handful of the tasty tuna tenders and placed them on the black and white tiled counter. She set him down where he proceeded to devour the goodies. Brit pet his short, dove-gray coat that matched the suit she was wearing. “If it helps, it wasn’t much of a celebration. Just a couple of drinks while Kathy humiliated me in front of the new bartender. God, Hen, it was awful. The way he looked at me.” Brit continued to pet the cat absently. “Do I really look that bad?” She glanced at him.

Henry regarded her. Now licking his chops, clearly happy to have not only the treats, but her full attention, he meowed.

“Well, I don’t think I look that bad, either, but then, I am forty now. Maybe it’s all fallen to rubbish. I suppose my boobs could use a lift, and perhaps I could stand to lose a few pounds, but damn. I’m forty! Am I supposed to look like a Victoria’s Secrets model? I should hope not!” She continued her rant scooping Henry up and walking into the bedroom where she stood in front of the full-length mirror.

The reflection revealed a woman of medium height, curvy hips, a healthy bust, and auburn hair that framed a roundish face, one that still looked like it belonged to a woman in her mid-thirties. Her skin was clear and smooth, her eyes, large and brown, and lips that were neither too thin nor too full. She smiled. “There, I do have good teeth. All still securely inside my head where they belong.”

Brit let Henry down and turned around looking over her shoulder. She reached backwards and ran her hands over her backside. “The bum is a bit broad, isn’t it? But it’s still pretty firm.” She grabbed it, giving it a squeeze. “What do you think? Still have a chance or just garbage, and I should hang it up?”

“Meow.” Henry peered up from the floor.

“Oh, God. You’re right. It’s all rubbish, isn’t it? I’ve waited too long.” She turned back to the mirror. A hint of sadness strayed into her eyes, and her smile disappeared. “Look at me, Henry. I’ve worked hard all my life, and I have a career, but no one to share it all with.”

“Meow.”

She looked down. “Well, of course, I have you.” She leaned down and picked him up, cuddling him close. “I didn’t mean to belittle you, dearest. You mean the world to me.”

Still, Britain St. James felt regret. It had been quite some time since she’d last felt the touch of a man, longer than she cared to admit. Okay, it’s been years! Damn, stop nagging at me, conscience. You’re such a twat!

“Well, I have a new title, and my own flat, and I have you, Hen. It simply must be enough, I suppose.”

She sighed. “Who would want this old bag anyway?” Brit changed into her Friday night pajamas, and then curled up on the sofa with Henry to catch up on Downton Abbey. Before long, she dozed off.

“Need a real man?”

Snort, “What?” Brit cracked an eye, looked briefly around, and then began falling asleep again. Soft music played in the background.

“Need a hard man?”

The voice interrupted her zees once more. “Who’s talking?” Her eyelids weighed a ton each. She couldn’t seem to open them.

“How about a gentle man?” the voice continued in a sultry, deep tone. “We’ve got just the right man for you. Discreet Escorts knows what you need and wants to give it to you.”
The male voice purred in Brit’s ear. No, wait. That purr sounds familiar. She finally rubbed the sleep out of her eyes only to find Henry staring at her – purring. Music played, sounding like sex on steroids. She glanced at the television.

“Call and reserve your hot hunk of burning love. Agencies located in London, New York, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas. Why spend another lonely night when you can spend time with a sexy,” a dark-haired man with smoldering eyes stared out from rumpled bed sheets, “hard”, he flexed, “gentleman.” He smiled seductively. “Discretion is my middle name,” he said. The business name flashed onto the screen with both a local and international phone number. Brit tried not to giggle but failed.

“Well, there you go. I should just hire a man then.” She picked up the remote control and clicked OFF. “Come on, time for bed.” She stood and walked to her bedroom, shutting the living room light off along the way. Henry followed at a slower pace, stretching once, before weaving between his human’s feet. “That’s the most action I’ve seen in a bit, Hen,” said Brit before shutting her bedroom door.

***

“Brit, the Bankers Convention is in one week, and Fincter just canceled.

Brit stared at Harold Balsac, her new boss. He was an imposing, older gentleman who smoked cigars without apology in anyone’s presence and spoke over anyone who tried to get a word in edgewise. Curmudgeonly didn’t begin to describe him, but one couldn’t accurately do so without also tossing in narcissist. Mr. Balsac was the self-proclaimed best at everything. If you’d done it, he’d done it better. If you ate it, his chef made it, and his chef was a top graduate of the Cordon Bleu. If you drove a vehicle, he had ten top-of-the-line models. If you dated a woman, he’d bedded supermodels. He was a true misogynist, the type that wasn’t even aware of how offensive he could be, but he was the president of the bank, and the head of the board of shareholders. Now he was standing in her new office, smoking a stogie and really stinking up the space, while telling her that her predecessor, Mr. Titus Fincter, who now occupied a larger office in a separate department, canceled out as representative for Boyd’s of London at this year’s annual convention of bankers.
“Sir--” she began.

“As the new director, you will be taking his place. Get with my secretary. She’ll provide your itinerary.” He puffed the cigar, and turned, walking out of her office door.

Brit leaned over her desk and called after him. “But where will I be going?”

Balsac looked over his shoulder. “Las Vegas.” He turned the corner leaving Brit standing at a right angle over the clutter on her desk with her mouth hanging open.

“Holy shite,” she said to herself.

Emma Cole came around the corner carrying a stack of files. She smiled when she saw Brit, and then frowned in concern at the look on her face.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” She stepped into the office and closed the door.

“I’m going to Las Vegas?” Brit stood up straight, tugging her blouse down.

“Las Vegas? Why the long face then? You look like pudding sliding down the wall.”

“It’s just very sudden. It’s next week, actually,” she bit her lip, “and now I have to pull it together and fly off to America because of Fincter canceling. Balsac didn’t even say why he’d canceled.”

Emma set the files down on the edge of Brit’s desk and sat in the chair behind her. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, I know why! Just heard the juiciest gossip down in the fax room about it.” She perched on the edge of the chair, grinning.

Brit waited, and when Emma continued to smile like a loon, she stomped her foot. “Well, out with it!”

A giggle escaped her coworker’s lips. “Well, apparently, Mrs. Fincter felt a need to shake things up in their marriage, you know, spice up the old sex life.”

One auburn eyebrow climbed Brit’s forehead. “And?” She sat down and leaned her elbows onto the desk expectantly.

“So, she purchased a few items online from one of those adult sites. Jackson from the mailroom says one of them was a rather large, vibrating butt plug.”

“What!” Brit stifled a laugh. “How in the world would Jackson know?”

“Because his sister is a nurse at the Royal London Hospital,” Emma dropped her voice to a whisper, “an emergency room nurse.”

“No! What happened?”

“Word is, the device got,” Emma pinched her thumb and forefinger together and pushed up into the air, “sucked up inside.”

Brit covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide. “Ew!”

Emma continued. “And the damn thing couldn’t be shut off or pulled back out. It was really in there, Brit! When they finally dug it out, there was quite a bit of damage to his old bum, so now he’s out for surgical repairs.”

“Sweet baby Jesus!” Brit sat back, looking around the room, and then the laugh that threatened to bubble up earlier burst forth. She immediately stifled it. “I really shouldn’t laugh. That’s quite horrid, isn’t it? Damn, those sex toys are hazardous to your health.”

“Well, that’s not a normal turn of events for butt plugs and vibes, but yes, in the wrong hands…” Emma let her voice trail off, reluctant to go down that path and reveal her own adventures in adult products land.

“More like old hands…or certainly, your vapor rubbing auntie’s and uncle’s hands. Oh!” Brit made a face and shuddered. “I just don’t want to picture it, but now you’ve put that repulsive thought into my head. Thanks, Em.” She gave Emma an accusatory stare.

Emma stood up, grinning again. “Anytime, Brit.” She picked up her files. “But at least now you know why Fincter canceled, and who cares, anyhow? You’ll have loads of fun in Vegas on the company dime so why are you worried?”

“It’s so sudden, Em, and what about Henry?”

“Sam and I would be happy to watch him.”

“But it’s such an imposition—”

“Nonsense! It will be great training for us, babysitting your kitty.”

“Training?” Brit looked at her friend and coworker with an inquiring eye.

“Yes. Sam and I, we’re trying for a baby.” If it was even possible, Emma’s smile grew larger.

“A baby! Oh, Emma, how wonderful!” Brit stood, and walked to her, giving her a hug. “Well, get on it then. I’m thrilled to become an auntie.”

The two women parted company, each continuing on with their day. One spent her lunch hour shopping for kitty toys, and the other went over her travel to-do list that included trying to remember where she’d put her passport and wondering what the weather was like this time of year in Las Vegas. In the end, Brit knew she needed to do some shopping because she was headed for Sin City, USA.

Chapter Two

The Buddy System and Slots ‘O Fun

The flight from London to Las Vegas was long! Thankfully, Balsac decided to send along an assistant for Brit in the form of Kathy. She’d been to the past two under Fincter before being assigned to a separate department, but with Mr. Fincter out, literally on his arse, Balsac felt Brit needed someone with experience to accompany her to her first convention as Managing Director. Her new assistant, Beverly, got her nose out of joint about it, but Brit promised her the next year, and in the meantime, set her up with a lovely spa weekend at a swank salon. This little bit of bribery came out of her own pocket, but she thought, ‘Damn, good help is hard to find.’

Kathy was ecstatic. “God, Brit, I can’t believe old Hairy Balls plucked me up from a boring week of auditing, and had me come with you, but I’m chuffed! These conventions have been piss-poor boring with Fincter. He’s all work, work, work, you know, but now it’s us girls!” She gave Brit a half hug from her seat. The Fasten Seatbelt sign was now on, and the captain announced the plane was descending toward McCarran International Airport. “We’ll represent by day and paint the town red by night!”

Brit pursed her lips, a habit she had when she knew she would be the one to reign Kathy’s enthusiasm in before they ended up posing for mug shots. “We do have a job to do, and since this is my first convention, Kathy, I can’t just cock it up.”

Kathy smiled, undeterred. “Who said anything about cocking it up? Why, we’re going to be model banking reps.” Her grin spread until Brit could see all thirty-two teeth. “And then we’ll get up to some high fuckery. It’s going to be fab. You just wait and see.”

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Enter the World of Checkpoint, Berlin...(Read the first Chapter FREE)

Desire leads to danger is this epic, steamy crime series. And it all begins with Exposed: The Education of Sarah Brown.

Award Winning Drama

"Strongly Recommended! If you like spicy hot reads with non-stop adventure and intrigue, immerse yourself in '[Exposed}The Education of Sarah Brown." ~ Lisa Ann S., NetGalley Reviewer
"I've read Exposed... twice now. I read it back to back, the way you'd listen to your favourite song. There's something about it - the pace,the throbbing tempo - that made it genuinely unputdownable to me." ~ Read Freely's Book of the Month Review (April 2020)
"HOT! Keeps you on your curled toes!" ~ DayReader Reviews
Prologue


Berlin, Germany
Fall, 2013

He was beautiful. Absolutely the embodiment of divine creation with his golden curls, blue eyes, and the promise of perfect cheekbones beneath a touch of what people refer to as lingering baby fat. It wasn’t fat, per se, but the roundness of youth on the boy’s face that would fade away in another year or so. At fourteen, he was angelic. Striking. One could almost see the bones stretching and growing like a young sapling that would one day be a mighty oak tree. For now, they lacked the musculature of a grown man. The limbs were long and the back straight. His blue eyes sparkled when he laughed and were fringed with thick, dark-blond lashes. His cheeks were painted naturally with two spots of color, and his lips, as they spread across his face with a hearty laugh, were lush and full. Even his teeth were pearly white. Perfection.
The sight of him took the man’s breath away.

The boy was tossing a ball to a young woman with red hair. She was older, a sister. Just as lovely and striking, but not so much as the boy. The man watched as the two played a game of catch in the park. He had come to this park every day in the last two weeks since he first sighted the glorious creature. On the third day, they returned with a Frisbee and a picnic lunch. He followed them that day as he did today. They left, and the man trailed them, walking far enough behind not to be noticed, casually swinging his cane as if enjoying an afternoon stroll.

They lived in an old, faded yellow apartment building with too many units to discover which one was theirs. He waited. Two hours later, she left carrying a black duffel bag over her shoulder. He followed her for four blocks where she took the stairs down to the tube and hopped into a car that took them deep into the industrial center of the city. Tourists didn’t frequent this side of Berlin. Here, native Berliners came out to party at the clubs and to indulge themselves in the bars. Then there were the others who blended into the hip party crowd, but then slipped down back alley staircases to a world most didn’t know existed. That’s where she went now without hesitation.

He waited, then followed. The staircase led to a steel door painted black. The logo at eye level was three large letters—XXX—painted red. Above those in bright neon yellow were the words ‘Club Sexo.’ He went inside and was greeted by a glass-enclosed ticket booth which contained a shirtless, dark-haired man wearing a leather collar decorated with metal studs sitting behind the counter. To the left was a door, but it was closed.

“You have an appointment?” he asked.

“No. No, I don’t.” The man stood there, looking at the list of club rules hanging on the wall behind the host inside the ticket booth.

“You have to have an appointment.” Shirtless pointed at the rules behind him. Sure enough, that was rule number one.

“How do I make an appointment?” the man asked.

Shirtless gave an assessing glance to the man in the suit. He noted the gentleman dressed well; seemed distinguished, even, with his groomed white goatee and hair accented by dark eyebrows above cold blue eyes. His accent wasn’t quite German; more like Dutch. Still, he looked much like the caliber of men who came and went nightly.

“You go online to this website.” He handed him a business card through the dip under the glass window. “Pick who you wish to see, whatever your particular thing is. All our dommes have bios that describe their specialties. We take all major credit cards, and you pay up front online before walking through that door. The charge shows up as CX3 LLC to protect your privacy. Once your appointment is made, you’ll receive a confirmation email or text, your choice, and you just show up. Oh, and no refunds.”

“Thank you.” The man took the card and put it in his inside breast pocket. He tipped his hat and left.
He made his way back to the UBahn in the quickly falling temperature and found the tube heading back toward the side of town where he was staying. Once back in his room, he shed his suit jacket and pulled the card out of his pocket. He set down his cap and cane next to the jacket. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he pulled out his mobile and surfed the internet for the website on the card.

The splash page asked him if he was over eighteen and to press ‘Continue’ to indicate he was, and that he accepted the rules for the site. He chuckled to himself. Beyond the firewall was an ‘About Us’ section and an icon for ‘Our Talent.’ He tapped that key. Several images popped up of women in various bondage costumes looking alternately fierce and sexy. He found them amusing. Scrolling through, one image stood out. A red-haired woman in red lace bra and panties wearing thigh high red leather boots. She had a red leather riding crop in her hands and appeared to be smacking it on her palm suggestively. Mistress Elsa, it read.

He tapped the image and her bio sprang up. Mistress Elsa is an experienced Domme in the art of bondage for beginners to professional submissives to include extreme roping. Mistress Elsa will bind you, beat you, and/or humiliate you. Your pain is her pleasure. Make your appointment today.

The man smiled. He changed screens to NOTES and typed. Message saved, he put the card into his wallet and tossed it onto the bedside table. He thought about the boy and young woman. His thoughts went to dark places. Feeling edgy, he stood, picking up his jacket, swinging it over his shoulders, and sliding his arms in.
He grabbed his cap and cane. Walking toward the door, he checked his breast pocket for his room key card. Satisfied it was there, he left.

Out on the street, he turned right and headed toward the tube station. A ten-minute ride south and he was stepping onto the platform. He pulled his coat tighter around him. The night air was cool in September. Up the stairs and onto the street the wind met him head on. This was not a decent side of town. This was a slightly seedier area of Berlin right on the edge of the best tourist spots. Here, prostitutes plied their trade. Women from Eastern Europe ended up trapped in this lifestyle after being brought in by sex traffickers. Most were strung out on drugs. They looked dirty, ragged, and pathetic, old before their time, and used up. The man walked past these women in their platform heels and short bargain basement skirts as they called out to him.
One block beyond he came upon a few young hustlers. Three of them. One was a tall, lean black boy with a shaved head. His shoulders were broad and his arms muscular. Not him. The second one had dark hair and a feminine stance. He smoked a cigarette while talking and gesturing wildly with his hands. Italian. No good. And too many facial piercings. The third one was more clean-cut with short blond hair. His jaw was squared, and he had a dimple in his chin. This one hadn’t quite yet filled out. His limbs were slim and well-formed, and he wasn’t overly tall, either. He appeared to be about seventeen, maybe eighteen. He would do.

The man walked over and asked the blond male for a cigarette. The other two hustlers gave him the once-over, noting the quality cut of his clothing, their expressions envious. They waved at their friend and moved off, leaving him alone with the man.

* * *

Berlin, Germany
Nighttime

The temperature dropped as soon as the sun went down. Anthony de Luca walked around downtown, trying to capture the nightlife of the city on camera. The images would be part of an article he’d been contracted to write for an online tour guide about Berlin. He was being paid for the job, compensated for his hotel and expenditures, and they promised to promote his guidebooks. He was famous for unearthing the unusual about any city he photographed along with the normal tourist sites. With that in mind, he found himself on a side of town that wasn’t quite the best. Still, it was all part of Berlin.

For fun, he’d photographed a few street walkers trying to lure in some business. They were bold, approaching cars as they slowed down to ogle the local ‘talent.’

As he aimed and clicked the shutter, he noticed a distinguished looking man walking quickly out of a back alley with a young blond man following behind. The blond walked fast and shouted at the man in the cap. He was speaking in rapid German, so Anthony had no idea what he was saying, but he seemed pissed.
The blond reached out and grabbed the gentleman’s arm and tugged. That was when Anthony noticed the cane in the older man’s other hand. That cane came around and connected with the blond’s head—hard.
Shocked, Anthony aimed his camera again, and began shooting picture after picture. The older man continued to strike the younger one on the head, back, shoulders, and legs just outside the alley. Bleeding now, the blond raised his arms to fend off the blows while trying to land a couple of weak punches. He wasn’t strong enough to defend himself against the older man.

Two men came running, one black and the other white with dark hair, and chased off the older man. Anthony kept shooting.

As he half-limped, half-ran away, the older gentleman looked around him. His eyes landed on Anthony standing across the street with the camera in his hands. The man’s panicked look changed to one of dark anger.

“Shit!” Anthony turned and ran back toward the city center. He didn’t wait around to see whether the older man would follow him.

The man did attempt to follow, but Anthony was soon swallowed up into the crowd, gone.

The old gentleman stopped to catch his breath. He wasn’t worried that the blond hustler would report him to the police for not paying for play. He hadn’t intended not to pay him but discovered too late that he’d left his wallet in his room on the bedside table. No other way to deal with that situation since the deed was done, but someone else might report him to the police. Someone else with an expensive camera, who was not a prostitute trying to protect himself. Someone who was most likely legitimate. Someone who now had his image on film committing a crime.

He’d have to leave Germany sooner than he planned. He’d have to leave that night; go before he could set up a meeting with Mistress Elsa. A sigh escaped his thin lips.

As he pondered the situation, a Volkswagon with a familiar blue stripe and the word, POLIZEI, across the doors drove by, slowing down. The driver, a cop with hard, dark eyes and graying hair at his temples peered out, watching. Next to him, his partner, a woman, checked the road ahead, scanning the sidewalks. The man offered a brief smile and gave a slight nod of his head before continuing down the street at a leisurely pace. The police car made its way another block down before turning right and disappearing out of sight.

The man exhaled, whipping a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and mopping his forehead. It was a close call, one he intended not to repeat. He hailed a taxi. A quick trip back to his hotel had him packed and off to Tegel within the hour. He had no time to spare. If the man with the camera had reported him to the Polizei, his image would be on an all-points bulletin shortly, and he’d be unable to get out of the country and back home. He’d find another way to gain what he wanted.Chapter One


The flight was long—twelve hours and forty minutes long to be exact—and that didn’t include getting to the airport two and half hours early for an international flight. Thank God for being able to afford first class, thought Sarah. Otherwise, I might have never gotten any sleep. This was her very first transatlantic flight, first any-kind of flight. Despite the stress of the past several weeks, she was enjoying herself, even relaxing finally.
As the Boeing 747 flew her to a new chapter in her life, she reflected back over the last five years. Her mother, Mary, developed breast cancer, a condition she blamed on her husband’s animal lust, something she grew to believe, more as the years passed. She called such lust a sin against God outside the need for procreation. After her daughter, Sarah Ann Brown, was born, her mother found more reasons and ways to avoid intimacy with Ed Brown, eventually driving him to seeking sex elsewhere. Unfortunately, for Mary, this also led to Ed finding love, and eventually leaving her. Still, Mary would not grant him a divorce. Instead, she maintained all of the financial security of marriage without the benefit of a loving partner. Her fundamentalist mentality grew along with her bitterness, which she heaped upon her only child, Sarah.

For her part, the young blonde-haired, brown-eyed girl kept to herself, having few friends due to the embarrassment of having a mother who preached at them about their sinful ways. When others around her began dating, Sarah spent her time in the local library, reading. Anything to avoid being dragged off to the Church of Christ alongside her mother. It was there, she’d discovered romance novels. That was Sarah’s only introduction to relationships, and when she’d turned eighteen and could check out books from the adult section, her only education about sex.

After Mary’s diagnosis, she declined further, wrapping herself in scripture, and berating Sarah when her jeans were too tight, her skin showed below her neck, or when a young man happened to smile upon her while out.

“Cover yourself! I did not raise a slut to be a whore for Satan,” she would rant. This level of fanaticism seemed to increase after chemotherapy robbed Mary of her hair and what was left of her health.

A home-health nurse was hired by Ed to take care of his estranged wife, and only out of love for his daughter. He knew the burden the girl carried upon her young shoulders after he left. Guilt ate him up even as he selfishly stayed away, living with his new girlfriend, and starting a new family. Meanwhile, Sarah graduated high school in her hometown of Helotes, Texas, and while friends and classmates went on to college, she remained behind, going to work at the library she’d come to love and see as a haven from the ugliness that was her life.

Her days were spent working, and her nights, caring for her mother, who’d reached stage four in her cancer. Each morning, Sarah would rise, dress for the day, and then bathe her mother, dressing her, feeding her, and making sure she took her morning medication before Vangie arrived to take over her care for the day. Most days, her mother went off on a tangent, spewing bible verses, and reminding Sarah to remain chaste and pure. She still felt a little guilty over her relief when, after prolonged illness, Mary lost her ability to speak.
The silence was a blessing.

As her mother spent more time sleeping, Sarah stayed longer at the library after hours. Vangie knew the girl needed the break. It was there, within the quiet walls of the building, after her co-workers left for the day, that she would pick out a new book, and curl up into one of the overstuffed chairs. It was also there that she first explored her sexuality...

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